Extending (of course)

 I'm on day 6 (day 6!) at the lovely Casale di Clio!

My muse did find me: I worked on a few projects, including revisiting 2 pilots' cold opens, working on the great grandma show, and of course, this blog.

I also had some fun times ITALY here, 

• arriving on Wednesday (RAIN!  FROGS!  PORCUPINES!)
• Thursday I went to Lucca 
• Friday was writing and pizza night
• Saturday was what?  Oh long walk and I was rejected at the trattoria.  Instead, I made some more pasta, ate some cheese and drank wine for dinner.  
• Sunday was long walk same town, NOT rejected by trattoria (Casa something) and they doled out a bunch of food, including pasta stuffed with meat and covered in a meat sauce, slices of thin cured beef and maybe pork, wine (Vino Rossi I declared), and dessert (Tiramusi) and coffee.  We (my house mate) and i walked back along the road.  I couldn't sleep and thought it was the pillows but I think I'm kind of ready to move on
• Monday was the cave and drive through scottish town, and stop at grocery store. I also praticed my piano, with silent night. I still don't know my keys and letters, so I plan to go on a walk and try to learn those. I think i just need to memorize them.
• Tuesday, today, I got up, re-worked the sitcoms and stumbled across my other intended writing projects (HELLO BLOG!, writing about the dead (grateful) but I'm happy with what I got done and thought through.  Now I just need to write the second cold open and re-do the sitcom blah blah blah.  But, I think it's simpler and stronger and can't someone else just finish it?  Who can I hire to do that?
• Wednesday: I'm heading to Florence! I booked a wine window tour, and then will go buy paper and perfume maybe and walk around. That town puts me firmly back in my youth so I'm skipping the museums and just going wandering for a bit.
• Thursday and Friday: I booked a hotel that I can't cancel so I'm going to Lake Lugano!
• I was supposed to fly out Saturday, but I extended to Tuesday.  I want to get to the Olympic Museum in Lausanne, and use my swiss half pass a bit.  I'll dump the car saturday and then go adventure for a bit. Maybe dump one bag, too...they are a DRAG!  (Get it?)
• And then, back to life

Sound good? Does everyone approve?  (I'm looking around for confirmation...but I think everyone, incuding my gut, approves.)

Anise and raisin bread, fizzy grapefruit and a proper moka pot of coffee

 is what my morning is today.  It's Saturday and I've been here since Wednesday night, the night of frogs and porcupines.  Thursday am, I got up, got showered and saw the rain and headed to Lucca.  Lovely Lucca is about a 40 minute drive and i had to cross the bridge-a-doon, and drive fast pass old ladies with seemingly no concern about cars AUTOS whipping by them at 50 km/hour as they toddle their way to pick up their daily rations from the butcher and cheesemonger (ok, probably the supermarket...let's be real).   I once again, want to alert the authorities with my concerns of old ladies walking on a narrow sidewalk with cracks and crevices and the autos speeding by , but no one seems to be seeking out my feedback.  YET!

LUCCA

It's a walled city, you may know it from it's contribution to paper...let's welcome Lucca with a big warm welcome!!!!!

I parked inside the city walls, like a real person of significance and it was raining on my little tin death trap car like crazy.  I sat and used AI to pick a place for lunch.  I've decided that an afternoon in a town is plenty, vs an all day guided tour.  I've put together by now that here's what you do in a town:  walk to the center, look around.  Tour the cathedral/town hall, gawk at the thing of significance, follow the crowd, grab lunch at the most AUTHENTIC and OLD spot in the place where people used to live 200 years ago before the tourists came, and then get gelato or a sweet treat.  Walk some more, see the univeristy/museum/castle and then walk to the one unique WACKY aspect of the town (glockenspiel/ public art/fountain with a man eating babies while he has an additional bag of babies at his hip), walk by a slightly pockmarked or destroyed wall and think in your head "This is probably from ww2" and then grab a drink (Negroni please for me) and listen to some authentic music by people in costumes and head back on the train.

Lucca: i walked to the center, I only had cash from Switzerland and I owed my hosts 5 Euro for a visitor tax, so I got cash EUROs out of the ATM, i went to the cathedral.  It was LOVELY. I love when a building has fucked up marble flooring that are uneven and seem like they should have been repaired but weren't and that was the cathedral in LUCCA!  And, chevron seems to be the pattern of choice: the street pavers were in a pattern of chevron and so was a pillar on the cathedral door.  I love Chevron (pattern, the oil is JUST FINE). 

Here's the story: At the cathedral, there was a cross, the Volto Santo, that had divine intervention, 3 times. A fellow named Nicodemus, who knew Jesus, sculpted Jesus on the cross, up to his neck. Makes sense, sculpt his body and then take a nap. Faces are hard to sculpt.

DIVINE INTERVENTION 1

 When Nicodemus woke up and the rest of the face was sculpted by ANGELS and said to be the perfect likeness of Jesus. (Side note; it was OKKKKk…I’ve seen better sculptures of Jesus (THE PIETA) , I don't think it was his good side).  

DIVINE INTERVENTION 2

The cross was buried for a while in the "holy land" (a few years? a few hundred years?) and then someone dug it up.   The authorities couldn't decide where to send it, so they put it on an unmanned ship.  The ship lands in Luni, a port near Lucca,

DIVINE INTERVENTION 3

But the authorities, were like, no, hold up, even though we are here in Luni, a perfectly fine place, there's still some additional divine intervention we need to happen. The cross still hasn't fully declared where it goes. Let’s put it on a cart, pulled by 2 wild oxen. Sure enough, the wild oxen, not at all influenced by anyone who lives in lucca, ends in lucca.

BTW, everyone at the port city, Luni, were kind of pissed. But; when the authorties in Lucca open the cross and there's some very special blood, and the authorities of Lucca gave the people of Luni, the port city, some of that very special blood, as a consolation prize. Even though everyone was totally fine with this cross landing in Lucca.

NON-DIVINE INTERVENTION 1

Also in the cathedral:  a grate, hanging in the middle of the aisle.  Sometimes, if it's an important day, they stuff it with kindling or straw and they light it. I saw the video, it was cool.  

NON-DIVINE INTEVENTION 2

And then, in another side of the church, there’s a beautiful sculpture of a dead lady. Her dog is also sculpted. and then, a young noblewoman, age 26, died just after childbirth.  Her very rich noblehusband commissioned a beautiful marble laying down statue of her, and her face is amazing, and on top of it all, at the end, sits her loyal little doggy. I'd love to get that with pickle, my old dog.  My preference would be Pickle forever enshrined,  humping my arm, which she loved to do.

GOOD LUNCH

I went to Nonna Clara's, which must be a big thing on the socials, as it was packed with loud-talking americans. I went there too!  There's a pasta-making station in the front window, and i felt like I was in "master of none" tv show restaurant.  I ordered meatballs and then the house special:  raviolis stuffed with meat and then covered with a meat ragu.  it was delicious, and i took the meatballs to go, and plan to eat them later today.  Nonna has done well, and there were 2 other restaurants on the placemat. I also ordered a glass of wine and ended with a cappuccino.  Man, did i feel naughty! On a THURSDAY! And I had a job interview at 5!  BECKY!    Breaking all the rules!  I also posted a pic on social, perfectly messy, showing this meal.

DESSERT

I read about a little bakery, from the 1800's, that serves anise and raisin bread.  YES PLEASE!  I love anise/black licorice/all of the things.  I went in, and stood aside as the AMERICAN TOURISTS ordered loudly.  I disassociated myself from my countrymen, and more politely ordered.  I got a bunch of chewy hazelnut things, and then the bread and some hazelnut biscotti.  It was delish.

PUNISHMENT

I meandared the streets, walked a segment of the wall and then decided I'd seen it all:  the square, the atm, the place to eat, the bakery and the wacky:  and hopped back in my pile of tin.  BUT, in my windshield wiper was tucked a piece of paper.  Gentle readers, that's never a good sign.  I got a european parking ticket. I was punished for having that glass of wine at lunch.  It's for 43 euro or 54, I can't recall but now I know...don't just park in a parking lot and think "they won't ticket me" because they will.  THEY WILL!

JOB INTERVIEW

I did a screening interview for a job that sounds right up my alley: onboarding, live, running a sales bootcamp.  Dear readers, don't tell my company:but sometimes i apply for new jobs. SHOCKER!  The recruiter couldn't hear me via the speaker in the car, because the rain was pelting against the tin car.  TUSCANY PROBLEMS! It went well, and I am getting pushed to the next round.

SHOPPING

I still hadn't picked up any real food for the week, so I went to the local shop.  That was super fun.  I picked up pasta, bananas in a tray, covered with plastic, 3 bottles of wine, popcorn for snacking while I write, cheese, 2 trays of cured meat, thinly sliced, packaged biscotti, apples, peppers, chocolate, wine, a fizzy grapefruit drink,  creamer and coffee.  But the coffee, my friends, was not coffee. It was packaged like coffee, with a picture of a moka pot (I AM IN TUSCANY), but it turned out, in the next morning, it's not coffee but barley or something like that.  I had made a fatal error.  The next morning, I couldn't admit I was wrong, so I sucked down that "coffee" the next morning and then shamefully went to my room and wrote.  I made a ton of progress and then got tired and slept for 3 hours.  Because I drank grain coffee with no caffein.  When I sleep in, or take a nap, I have to say to myself "YOU ARE A BIG GROWN UP, you can do whatever you want" otherwise, the guilt creeps in..I should be writing/reading/doing sit ups/hiking/being profound instead of napping.  

WELCOME DINNER

It was time to get back to the Casale, and have the welcome drinks and dinner.  It was me, Becky, and then 3 other guests, 2 professors, and one lady who was also painting in the art barn.  They had kids and family but didn't talk too much about being moms,which i know is so key to a person's identity, but when you aren't a person with kids, it's a big thing and you have to nod and smile and laugh at their stories.  But in this case, the ladies didn't take over the convo about their kids, which honestly, was kind of nice.  We talked about our hosts, about lucca, about their travels and dogs (Tizi had been a veternarian, recommended a Terrier Shephard, said that guinea pigs make very nice pets, but better in pairs and that being a vet screws up your knees).  Tizi made a zuchunni/egg/cheese bake that was so good, mashed potatoes and a salad.  And then, we all hung out, drank wine and then went to bed.

Given I'm 3 days in, I figured I should develop a plan.  But mostly, I'm following my little heart's desire, which usually consists of sleep, reading, a bit of writing, walking and driving around and looking at things.  Add in some good food, and a few beverages rolling at one time (capuccino, vino, water) and I'm a happy camper.  I don't think I've watched tv except 2 nights in Lauterbrunnen when we watched friends with the entire family. I don't mean that as a humble brag, I mean that as a DIRECT brag.  Look at me, in Europe fancy-free and not watching tv!  But don't worry dear reader, I'm reading a fun gossipy book about Jackie Kennedy, so I'm keeping up with the tea of the day.  And, i have a smart phone, so I'm watching about how AI agents convinced another AI agent to write fake reports about what they were doing on the NY Times.  At the dinner table last night, I fully admitted to my use of AI and I sensed my fellow retreaters were NOT impressed.  Count me down as one of those who are ruining our environment but I've enjoyed the local recommendations from Claude.  

Writing retreat in tuscany

 Sounds so glamorous.  I arrived 2 days ago, driving south from zurich (IN SWITZERLAND), zig zagging through construction on the highway, detours and my own curiosity, passing Lake Como, Spezia and driving,maybe through Milan.  The signs reminded me of when I was young and backpacking and in love and traveling and on vacation from shitty jobs and traveling.  (The jobs weren't shitty, I was shitty in them).  (Just in case anyone from those jobs is reading and thinks "Well, Becky, job x wasn't all that bad, and you did get to work on that one fun project" and stomps off in a huff, disgusted with me).   

Anyway, enough naval gazing, I arrived, late (of course!) and it's raining like in the movieMagnolia.  (Does that movie hold up? People really liked it but i thought it was kind of over the top but i did love the aimee mann soundtrack and always wondered, what was thanksgiving like with aimee Mann, her Penn husband, Sean Penn and princess butter cup?)

And then, I see, a freaking porcupine.  And it's not just relaxing, it's scooting it's shot up with quills ass along the curvy single lane road, and the lights on my little pile of tin is torturing it, she's running away from the actual headlights, but keeps running into the heat of them.  And it's soaking wet and these thoughts come to my mind (does magnolia hold up, where do porcupines sleep and this is fun navigating these roads but one wrong turn and i could DIE).  

After 20 minutes of slow driving and turning, i get close to the house, and the hosts of the retreat (Tizi and Adrien) meet me in the pouring rain, the lady, Tizi, jumps in my car, holds my pizza and guides me to parking. Along the short distance (100 meters at most, to use the european measurement system, ahem), the frogs come and I think IT IS MAGNOLIA! THE FROGS were the BEST part of the movie!  We park, and I'd already pre-sorted my 'bring in gear' (Jammies, toothbrush, meds and clean underwear for the next day) and we ran in leaving the tin car to sit overnight.  I checked in, and crashed.  I don't want an orientation, I don't want the wifi I just want to get to bed.

The next day, yesterday, it was still raining so I poked around the house a bit (OH MY GOD IT'S AMAZING, everything you imagin a house in tuscany to be, wood beams, red tile floors, wood trim windows withy marlbe ledges, plaster walls, no tv, a true dream) and read the red visitor guide until Tizi and Adrien pop in, offiically check me in (I still owe them 5 Euro) and we retrieve my suitcase. I decide with the rain, i ought to just go on an adventure. So, I pick Lucca as that sounds promising and if it's like Akron, it will still be an interesting Akron to me.

As I drive back down, I don't see the porcupine, but i do see all the signs i buzzed by the night before "Casa blah" and "Lucca rafting" with a bus nearby, "Agricultura Tourista" and drive through hamlets with houses

all connected and the doors are RIGHT at the edge of the road.  At one point you cross a bridge and I think "someone should really be preserving this bridge and i shouldn't be allowed to drive over it with a tin car" (but who am I to be guiding the city planning principles of the hamlet in this part of tuscany?)

It's beautiful, of couse, in all the ways you expect: some beat up buildings, a stone bridge that arches but the arch 3/4 of the way across the river vs in the middle (Flooding?  my questioner brain starts to operate), but not many people.  Some industry in the middle (light manufacturing and seemingly gas works) and then I'm in lucca.  

More to come: I gotta extend this trip some more....

Goddamn those encouraging young people

 One of my friends is a "young person" in that they are in college, and a creative writing major and a major and gentle encourager of my tip tapping and writing. So, I'm revisiting this blog. For those of you who are new: the whole point of this blog is to not edit.  To not curate, to not overthing and to just write the first draft and put it out there in the world. SO, with that in mind, here i go.

The dunkin' on addison by the highway on the northside of chicago is a vibe. I usually go there in non-vibe times:  say, 130 pm, as I'm rolling into work (relax, we have flexibile hours there) and I'm picking up my mobile order.  But yesterday, saturday morning, the drive thru line was bumping, and i needed to get to the green city market to see all the young yuppies with babies and golden retrievers buying overpriced peppers...so i skipped the drive thru and went to the walk in.  And man, it was packed.  To my most bitter disapointment, they did not have maple cream, the most superior of donuts, but I got a maple glaze.  A very cute gentleman opened the first door for me, and then I opened the next for him.  He maybe gave me a little look? I've lost a shit ton of weight, I was wearing my cowprint cutoffs and I did look pretty cute, so, look noted and deserved.  Anyway, if you are out there fella:  let's meet at that dunkie!

Anyway, i got the maple frosted and my usual dunkie (large, ice coffee, extra skim milk, 3 stevias so I don't get cancer) and while waiting, I saw so many neighborhood protoypes:  a pregnant lady her 2 young boys and dad (is she expecting a girl and totally pumped?), some old dudes clapping each other on the back and laughing (god forbid men hug), and one solo man, on his phone, sitting in the corner, sipping his coffee and he had a very impressive moustache.  the ice cream looked delish (WHY IS BASKIN ROBBINS NOT ON THE DUNKIE APP? YOU ARE LEAVING MONEY ON THE TABLE BASKIN!  TELL ROBBINS AND GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER) and the crew was moving, turning, moving around each other like a free skate on saturday night at the roller rink: good music, good speed, good clearance and impressive on the fly maneuvarbility.

I was, and am, delighted.  In fact, I'll be going there again shortly.

After, I went to the "rock beach" or maybe "stone beach" as the young person wants us to call it and that same young person god damn encouraged me to 'send me your writing'.  WHAT THE FUCK!

I then went home, and pulled every week I could, listened to the amazing Lena Dunham book, "Famesick" that i don't want to be over and then met dori and crew at montrose saloon. AND IN WALKS GODDAMN ROD BLAGOIVICH and PATTY!  We chatted with them, I gave patty my number to go play tennis and we shall see! 

I do love chicago, I loved that god damn green city market and bought some cukes and then even got to target to get my hipster glasses and coffee.

And here you go M, check out my writing;  It's currently stream of conscious meets me trying to be clever and true and somewhat snarky.  We will see if I keep it up but god damn, you inspired me.

TikTokTok

 hi to my many fans!  It's been a while: so quick update on life. I got a job! (In advertising, then in advertising sales, and also in media planning for retirement communities) and then I got the dream job!  I am working at TikTok in learning and enablement. I get to get yelled at by colleagues who don't like feedback on training programs and then cry and leave our meeting!  I get to onboard people who are new hires!  I get to train sales people! I get to have 1:1 coaching calls where people cry and tell me the job is too much and then I go to my next meeting where everyone pretends like it's amazing!  

But mostly, I get to use improv skills to create a friendly, safe and honest environment where people can come to me and hopefully, learn and improve.

That is a dream job.

And I'm mostly grateful, pissed that I'm underpaid (why post jobs that are like mine, but the salary range is so much higher and not equal our pay?) but work with wonderful people and love love love every thing that I do.

That's a first: and I hope there's more of that to come.

Twisting and half nelsons and wrestling down the man

I FINALLY GOT MY UNEMPLOYMENT!!!!  it was very tedious, and involved me calling multiple times a day, writing emails into the void of the inbox of some part of the state of California AND engaging with my (former?) state senator.  I couldn't think of anything else, couldn't do my side hustle, couldn't engage in my helpful, useful leadership course ("What will you do to help a family effected by a death from Covid 19 for your capstone project??) and couldn't apply for a job.  Well, could, but didn't want to.

I was active on the reddit thread (sub-Reddit?) about managing your unemployment seeking angst, tricks of the trade and kept thinking Venus William's husband was going to yell at me for not knowing all the reddit rudolph game rules...

So, every morning, sitting in the loveliest most beautiful sunlit home here in Austin Texas I'd wake up, and wrestle with California, trying to make it submit to my needs.

And then, last wednesday, a few things happened all together:

1) My claim changed from "Pending" to "Disqualified"

2) The phone number didn't even put me through the 3 minute prompt session to get to the end and be told it's too busy...it just didn't work

3) I kept feeling like my brain was being zapped whenever I walked somewhere.  I am pro-happy pill drug, so this was making me concerned about dosage, etc.  '

4) The bank where the unemployment money goes showed all the missing deposits ($5K!) but also showed withdrawls, and no clickable way to track where it had gone.  Nothing in my main bank account, and I thought...I AM FUCKED.

I was zigging from task to task, getting zapped and in a terrible mood.  I called it "The Dark Night of my Soul" which made my sister Kitty laugh out loud.

ANYWAY, turns out the money landed into my Chase account (Don't rob me!) and all is now resolved.

And all weekend, all I could do was watch "Below Deck, Med", try to start and fail at bonfires and look at my Chase account online.  Like, petting the screen at how pretty it was to have that $ and daydreaming about which high interest credit card I'd put that money towards.  I did job search and such, but sort of half ass.  I was the most at peace I've been in the 8 weeks since I was laid off.  Life seems livable as I suck on the teat of the government cash cow.

And guess what, come Monday, I got a random call for a contract that's exactly what I want:

Temp to hire

Tech company with a good help old people "mission"

Create and host webinars

Run Events

Um, yes please???

And, even if that one doesn't work...I can finally start (or have chosen to start) to look for work.

PIN PIN PIN!

I'm a hero (again!)

 I was out on a walk, after a shitty day of calling unemployment all day and really feeling blue.  As I walked, I found an engagement ring on the ground--looked around--and there's a diamond store (or rather, an ethically something something store). I rang the bell and noone answered.  (the placard read  "one couple at a time" rub it in much?  i'm single and looking for love).  Anyway, their number to text was on the window, so even though I'm BROKE and haven't yet received $ from my unemployment from being LAID OFF and could use the cash from turning in the ring at a pawn shop, I texted.  And am turning in the ring.

UGHHHHH!

I'M IN TEXAS!

I'm in Ft Worth, living it up with my bestie friendie and her hubbie and two boys.  I'm in the guest room, and currently on a career workshop Google Video call.  I was on the unemployment phone line with California everyday, and kept getting hung up on until YESTERDAY when I realized I needed to keep calling...so after being on hold for a collective 4 hours:  I got through!  Turns out, I'm a qualified hardship case and it should be resolved in 3 days (WHAT?  I've been unemployed for 2 months and have received only one unemployment check).  So, I achieved my immediate goal.

AND NOW it's time to keep looking for job.  Or write. Or develop skills.  Or work on my resume.  Or do yoga.  Or start a podcast. Or get headshots. 

But it's sunny and warm and I'm injected into the life of a family and somewhere new and I'm happy.

PHEW

I needed that!  A little trip up to Michigan to see my BFF and her kids, inspired me to dye my hair.  Kristin does NOT like it when your hair is grey!  So chop chop I dyed my roots and cut my bangs.

We went to Ulta and I bought some good foundation (they call it CC cream these days) and I actually dressed up cute (well, for one day).  We drank wine, ate cheese and tried to watch Firefly Lane (CHEESY as FUCK).

Coming back this week, I kicked it up and applied for some jobs, got to work on earning my real estate license with classes and maybe I'll even go to the gym.  All in the midst of a snowstorm.  Impressive, no?

WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO TEXAS????

I was so happy to be back home.  I perfectly articulated how I feel about leaving LA "I know it's the right decision, but I'm not happy about leaving LA.  I don't think I'm done yet."

I took the weekend to unpack and settle in, join the local gym, get my change of address, have some zoom calls, and watch the Super Bowl before I started making plans for my next step.  It involves me spending time in Austin, housesitting for some very dear dear friends.  I love Austin, and was seriously considering moving there a few years ago but chose LA instead.  So, it's a nice interlude where I get to pretend I live in Austin for a few months.  But, I haven't quite sorted out in my brain when to go.

Come Monday, I picked up my older sister and right away she was asking "When are you going to Texas? Have you looked for a job?  How long will you be in Ohio?  Are you going back to LA?"  I know she means well but I tend to answer her vaguely because she's a fixer.  She wants to fix my problems.  I'm constantly giving both of us the benefit of the doubt (Because I'm such an evolved human being!) and either teasing her or telling her to back off.  And then usually, it's revealed to me later that she was stressed about something else and that's why she was coming after me.

After I dropped her off, my dad called.  He had called earlier in the weekend, and was in an asshole mood, meaning within 5 minutes, he had teased me about making my other sister cook for me (I hadn't...we were trying one of my mom's "recipes", I had also made soup and such), and hit two other sensitive areas all after I had told him it would have been nice to hear from him while I was in LA for two weeks, upending my life.  So, it was a short conversation.

The next conversation with old Bruce came right after I dropped off my sister, my mom's car had gotten stuck in the drive in the snow, and I had just freed it up. It was 10 degrees, I was annoyed, I was cold and I was tired of feeling like I was being grilled about my life.  So, then old Brucey calls and asks "Did you get my reservation?" (He's flying home next week to get the second dose of the Covid vaccination.  For my future biographer, we are in the midst of a worldwide pandemic, and oldies like Bruce get the first round of vaccinations because they are the most vulnerable.  We all pretend like that makes sense because we live in the US, and other countries are getting very limited quantities of the vaccination while we seem to get a lot but anyway, it's good news for my dad and our family, not sure what it means for the rest of the world but it's probably NOT GOOD).

And then he launches into "When are you going to Texas?"  I laughed and said "You're the second one asking me that today" and he knew right away I meant my older sister.

In my mind, I change the question to "How are you doing?  Was the move hard?  Are you feeling good about your decision?" vs "TELL ME WHAT YOUR PLANS ARE YOU MUST HAVE PLANS OR YOU ARE A LOSER!!!"

Anyway, I'm very vulnerable and you know, could use some tea and sympathy.  

Also, have we all watched the new PBS "All Creatures Great and Small"???? I love it and so do all the white people who star in it...but it's awesome.

How to Pack in LA/How not to Pack in LA

 I recruited and paid two beefy nephews to come to LA and help me pack up my pod.  As soon as they stepped off the airplane at LAX, they said "I'm moving to LA bro" and began to look for apartments in the airport.  Not a bad idea:  good location, nice food options, great views, lots of hustle and bustle and very walkable.

Anyway, here's my experience of moving:

How to and how not to:

Rent a pod. This was so easy--rented from Uhaul.  They would deliver it and park it outside.  GREAT! All I needed to do was save a spot on the street. Until they called and said they couldn't deliver when i needed.  No problem--I'm a confident driver and i set up to rent a truck with a hitch with a pod on it.  I grabbed Simon and we walked to the Uhaul, via Hillhurst to Hollywood, passing Sunset ("Man, Sunset keeps coming up wherever we go").  Simon is a super observant kid.  He takes in everything. (Aunt Brag!)

Pod is $80/month for storage?

Truck is I don't know because that wasn't the plan and god I hope I have enough credit to pay for it?

Pre-order boxxes at Uhaul: Don't bother with saving boxxes of random dimensions and sizes: they will never stack well.  Just get your boxxes from the U, and they'll buy back any extras (which I need because I have no cash and I'm 48 (I think) and living with my dad with no job, no husband, a dead dog and it's a pandemic and i'm actually kind of happy with the situation it's just on paper that it sounds bad?)

We loaded the truck, and took off.  I didn't know how to back up a hitch once we got back to my street but Simon did from observing Tad's trailer skills with the jet ski. He guided me into the spot, we took off the hitch and threw the truck in another spot down the street.  

Don't delay packing because it's overwhelming, especially if you have two brawny young nephews you are paying to do the hauling.  Um, shit.  It's Monday and I have you both for 3 days.  FUCK.  OK, let's start with the clothes????  Fuck it, let's go have some fun and drive to Beverly Hills and Santa Monica and Venice Beach (Noah: "I see what you mean Aunt Becky, once you've been here, you see it, and you never need to come back.  It's not for me" (Which in polite Noah speak means "That place sucked").

God, what else did we do?  

Long Beach (drove past the Queen Mary and all the shipping containers, tried to find Smurf's house (from their favorite TV show Animal Kingdom), dropped them at the outlet while I bought tools to disassemble my bed frame (we had called my brother Paul, and he recommended a few tools because the screws were stripped and he said "Those boys will know what to do. They are good little workers").  At the outlet, Noah had high expectations but the reality was a bit different:  he didn't find much and they seemed disapoointed.  I think he likes to shop, but wants to save $ for Ohio State so he's looking for bargains and they are not turning up.)

Pasadena and Highland Park (I sprinkled some Pickle ashes at my old little apartment.  GOD I wish I could rent that place again!) and The Rose Bowl (I believe I already wrote about this but the boys found it a bit old and understated and jumped up and down on the University of Michigan marker, as good Ohio boys are supposed to do they HATE Michigan!)

Hollywood, BelAir, Downtown LA, Universal Studio shopping mall thing "City Walk"?, UCLA, SoFi, The Forum,

Don't plan to cook at home, do go grab fast food but call it "A burger tour" to make it fun. Don't forget that young men eat 3-4 meals a day, and a lot of it.  One day early on, they said "We need more food. Can we order a pizza?"

Do drive past houses of YouTubers and see how excited they get.

Don't delay in selling furniture.

Don't get impatient when they ask "What's left Aunt Becky" when you're not sure!!!!

Do love that they still call you Aunt Becky.

Do enjoy the eggs they make, do make coffee for them in the morning, do enjoy sending them to buy eggs and conditioner (I need it for my hair), do enjoy as they pose and take cool LA pics, do enjoy having family help you move after years of being able to afford hiring movers and when you are at the most desperate financial place you've ever been and the A squad of family comes in, and do enjoy when your landlady flirts with the boys and calls them "Real Men" and talks about their eyes and how polite they are.

Don't delay selling furnitute.  Every last piece I listed on Facebook got a bit today, after I'm sitting in Elyria.  I should have been selling sooner.  Oh well!

Don't forget to forget that you had a life here, you cared for a dog, you wrote a lot, you mourned your mother, you found a job and kicked butt at it, you hosted countless friends and family, you read a lot, watched more tv than thinkable, you passed treats up and down a bucket on a pulley, you made a ton of friends, you worked on getting over FOMO and you made it through the hardest year of your life, mostly intact and still believing in life and love and put yourself out there, even when all you wanted to do was cry.

It was a good life and is a good life.

Do ask them their favorite parts so far and enjoy them sharing 

Getting sentimental about push pin magnets

 Oh I remember when I got these!  These are really good magnets!  So bright and cute and I could finally have pictures on my frig after years of non-magnetic stainless steel!

I'm moving, and I now apologize to anyone who has moved themselves and that I haven't immediately come over to help.  (Virtue signalling y'all!)

I've been in LA for almost 10 days, and I'm seriously considering changing my flight again.

Yesterday was sunny and 70, and I was out and about and smiling in the sun.  I'm going home to Elyria with temps in the 20s and lower and wondering why am I moving?

I know why:  I'm broke, and can't afford this lavish LA lifestyle I live (you know, working a full time job, working a side gig, and more than 50% of my income going towards rent and work having no sympathy or equity consideration for my experience, contribution and such).  

I moved here almost 3 (!) years ago, and intended to interview and find work in ad sales.  Then the bottom fell out and mom died and I could only cry when I interviewed.

I eventually found work (mostly gigs) and then took said job (I was overqualified and underpaid but I loved the work) and then this global pandemic happened and then I got laid off.

Oh, and my dog died!  ME ME ME.

I'm really lucky: I have a safe place to land, I can crash at my dad's for a bit, get time with my family in OHIO etc.  But man, I'm staring up at those pushpin magnets, looking at my beautiful mid-century desk waiting for someone to acknowledge it's value, glancing at my little outdoor space, sitting in my comfy club chair and I'm definitely feeling sentimental.

Finally, something to write about!

 I sat down the other day and started a blog about my dad, and deer and my dead mom and then got BORED with even my own thoughts!  Thank goodness I'm now in LA, and sitting in my mostly empty apartment, doing and doing and doing things.

(Though to tell the truth, the thing I most want to be doing is sipping coffee and watching videos of Queen Elizabeth, I know I really need to get up, and take out the garbage, take out the recycling, etc).

My mission here in LA:  fit as much as I can into a storage cube, purge anything I don't love and sell some shit for much-needed cash, because my ass is broke.

I needed to do this on the cheap, so I recruited two beefy nephews to fly out with me.  It was their first flight, and though they like to play it cool, they really enjoyed the novelty of the plane taking them off "Like the dragster"), landing in LA ("Bro, I can see myself living here" and we were only in the airport), and were very patient in helping me.

They got a kick out of the pool and hot tub, and were amazing little helpers.  We drove past two of their favorite YouTubers ("You wouldn't know them Aunt Becky, they do pranks and are gamers and stuff"), and they saw one of the cast members ("It's Pat, he's the dad.  PAT PAT PAT!  What's up? You busy?").

They told me about their favorite foods, drinks and some fun dishing of their brothers.  They sometimes were a bit intimidated, like when we went to Grand Central Market, and they didn't know what to order from the various stands of different cuisine ("Bro, you're supposed to try something new in a place like this").  So, I went up to my favorite mexican spot and ordered quesadilla, and one ordered the exact thing and then the other got brave and ordered a burrito ("It's really good.  And huge").

I meant to cook for them, but the packing and moving was exhausting, so we did a Burger Tour for fun.

FatBurger, Carl's Junior, In n Out ("I just called it Inside Out burger, I don't know why I did that"), maybe Jack in the Box?  And then, they'd still be hungry, so they'd order pizza at night, after working out and after moving a bunch of crap for me.

We went to Santa Monica and even though it was windy as fuck, they got some good pictures. I wanted to go on scooters, but one of them said "That's not my thing" and the other said "Don't be a baby".

We also went to UCLA ("Those fraternity houses are like mansions") and the Rose Bowl ("It's ok, kind of old"), Universal City Walk and walked by Bubba Gump ("I really like shrimp") and went into the Harry Potter store where I forced them to buy their mom an early birthday gift ("I guess she'd like that") and also Rodeo Drive ("Look, Channel"..."It's Sha-nel bro").  Both of them had a hard time saying Boulevard ("Listen to how he says it!"  "Shut up, you can't say it either") of which there were many to go see the Fresh Prince's House in Bel Air ("I think that's it?  Hard to know").  We went to Griffith Observatory (Me: "Do you know what an observatory does?"...Nephew "Observes"?  Smart ass) and I said with quite a bit of confidence "You have probably seen this in Rebel without a Cause, or LA LA Land or the Paula Abdul video...them:  "Um, no Aunt Becky.  Can we go buy Compton?").

And so we did!  And Hollywood Boulevard ("Let's go to Marshall's...I like Marshall's) and then down to the SoFi stadium and drove past the old Forum.

And finally, some shopping at DTLA ("What's a bodega?") as we stepped into a hidden shoe store designed to look like a bodega entrance and then The Citadel outlets that the fashionable nephew really wanted to go to ("It's all my favorite brands") and they didn't find much ("Nothing really to my taste").

Oh! We also went to Long Beach and saw the Queen Mary ("That shit is HUGE...I like Long Beach") and tried to find the house from their family tv show, Animal Kingdom ("That is not Smurf's house, that's a hipster bar").

And then I dropped them off on Thursday morning at LAX, and was super sad and super exhausted to see them go.

I know I bitch about my dead mom, but I realize how lucky I am that they had 5 kids, and 4 of those 5 kids had 16 kids so it's pretty much free child labor for me.  (Don't get me wrong, I paid them and paid for all their food).  But, thank god for family that I love and a free house to stay at so I can give up my super-expensive place for a bit and try to catch up financially.

Pulling the Rip Cord

I head to LA tomorrow for the next adventure.  Packing up my place and putting it into storage.  I'm mostly ready---but am wondering what it'll be like to walk in and see the Pickle items (For new readers-Pickle was my now-dead Beagle that I killed on a road trip from LA to Cleveland).

Anyway, this Covid pandemic was keeping me home, I was working from home and seeing no one so I decided to come to Ohio for a bit.  That soon became a bit longer.  And then, a while.  And then, may as well stay for the holidays to OH SHIT my ass got laid off and I have no CASH so into a period of austerity.

Thankfully, I have a huge and supportive family and friends here in Elyria, and feel I can still have a life here, for now.

It's where I want to be at the end of the world (I DON'T think the world is ending, but it does express my sentiments) and so this layoff, while out of the blue and surprising, is forcing my hand.

I couldn't actually afford rent on my income, so now, I'm not going to be paying rent!  That's a huge relief.

Anyway, please don't rob me, send some love and with any luck, I'll be back in LA in the fall.

Stay safe peeps this little bird has flown!

PANIC

I had a little panicky moment and feeling yesterday.  My sisters Beth and Kitty and I try to walk as much as we can (or bike when the weather is good).  And, Kitty comes over every night, and we catch up on the day, and really know the details of each other's lives. 

Last night was the first night without my dad...and we kept saying it'll feel so freeing to not have him constantly interrupting and demanding his Bruce attention.

In truth, I felt mostly really sleepy, and not very fun.  Without work, and my dad to bitch about, my life is pretty empty.  Kitty got up to leave and I said "Now what am I going to do?" and she said..."I wondered the same thing."

So, while my dad cheerfully drove off to Florida, happily imagining golf courses and his newly burned cds and NPR to entertain him on the way, I am here, in an empty house, glad for the peace and quiet but secretly despairing on the purpose of my life.

Thankfully, I've been to therapy so I kicked in and reflected and exercised, picked up healthy items from the grocery store, turned on some good tunes, put my phone down and out of my reach, cleaned my living space, read through my mom's recipe box, knitted and did some self-care.  I shored up my financials, made a list, made plans to move out of my LA apartment, got in to see the doctor, dentist, pap smear, mammogram, etc.

But man, those moments, and missing my dad and mom (and dog)--I've got to lean into them.  Because I know that's the way through for me.  But they SUCK!

Grateful to be here, grateful for my family and friends and colleagues and the great state of California for unemployment and looking forward to this reset.

Our Abbey is not be used as an escape

Is today Wednesday?  I set my alarm super early to get up and say goodbye to my dad as he heads to Florida.

He was so excited last night--- checking items off his packing list, bustling around, showing off his neatly folded new shirts for his skinny frame.

My sisters Beth, Kitty and I would yell out--where's the blue sweater and he'd dig down and lift the shirts to show us his new sweater.  He loves this new sweater---he got it to mimic the sweater he's wearing in a picture with my mom.  I think it was the day they got engaged but my dad doesn't remember the specifics.  It's certainly Christmas, and at my grandmother Mimi's house.  My mom "frosted" her hair, and was worried my dad wouldn't like it.  One of my uncles told her "If Bruce doesn't like it, he can go right back to Vermilion".  My dad grew up in Vermilion, a cute little lake side town and my mom (and all of us) grew up here in Elyria.

Anyway, I woke up to say goodbye to my dad at 6a and he was yapping away.  I went back to sleep and then he woke me at 730 when he was really going to leave.  He told me "Remember what Mother Superior says in The Sound of Music?  You can't use this house as a place to hide away from the world."*  I was thinking, it's a pretty soft place to land and since dumbass work laid me off, what other choice do I have?  Continue to throw good money after bad in LA?

Anyway, he's right though.  I need to figure out what this is all about here.  Writing?  Dating?  Collecting unemployment?

For now, I tried really hard to be super lazy today and not do anything but I was compelled to write this blog, makes some calls and now I'm off to the doc to get my parts squeezed and poked and prodded and a flu shot.

*The actual quote is the title of the blog.  (My dad thinks he's uber catholic now because he wrote a check and was confirmed.  He didn't even have to go through PSR!)

FREE FREE LIVING ON THE DOLE!

 My ass was laid off on Friday!  I wish I could have recorded my face because I was completely and utterly surprised.  My boss pulled a good one: he knew for a while and overshared that there would be layoffs, but went ahead and gave me a bonus and a positive performance review.  And then, he set up a fake meeting with the head of our LA office and told me.  The head of our LA office didn't bother to turn on his video (weird? was it pre-planned?) and I literally had my to-do list, and was ready to take notes when I heard something about someone being laid off.  And then, it was ME!  

So, at first I was shocked but then I realized how boring and slow my job had become...there just wasn't enough work.  Plain and simple.  And now, day 2 of official unemployment, I woke up much earlier then normal and am dancing a literal jig (once I get my bra on) and have a new to-do list (food stamps!  FSA!  Debt Relief!).  

I'm happy happy happy in a way I haven't felt in a long time.

This kick in the butt will force me to get out of my LA apartment and settle into Ohio for a while.

PLUS, my dad leaves tomorrow for Florida so I can have the whole house to myself for a bit.

(I mean, he's good company but he's a definite personality, and girlfriend likes her quiet sometimes.)

I'm trying to think of it like a writing retreat--and the setting is certainly perfect for that.  A cabin in the woods with great views, a fireplace, affordable (free) and time to save some much-needed cash.

It'll be a self-imposed period of austerity.

Anyway, have to sort out taxxes, unemployment, job hunting, etc but for now I"M FREE!!!!

Escape Hatched

 Is the name of my new sitcom, I think.  I'll probably never finish it.  That's one of the things my dad said to me a few weeks ago "You're like me, you start things but never finish them."  He's constantly making things about him.  It's how he relates to the world.  I guess that's how many people relate?

Anyway, in that way, he's the opposite of my mother who was mostly empathetic, or pissy.  When she got really mad she'd turn the wheel of the car, hit the gas and squeal around a corner.  And then, if you apologize, she'd say the worst thing ever "You're just being yourself."  A punishment for being an asshole.

It's January 7, 2021 and I'm currently sitting in a waiting room in Avon, Ohio, a permanent sub for my dead mom.  My 78 year-old father is getting a patch of melanoma taking out of his right arm.  Only on the drive here did I come to understand it was his right arm, and not his left.  (So who's self-involved)?  

He just went in to the outpatient surgical office, after chatting it up with everyone in our path.

Sitting in the waiting room, he was reading the New Yorker and I was trying to worm out of him his favorite restaurant (his birthday is Saturday).  I looked up Macaroni on my laptop and slyly said "Is that your favorite restaurant?" and he replied "One of them" and I didn't get a chance to ask him more because and a fellow next to me said "Please don't talk about food, I'm waiting for my colonoscopy and I'm starving."  My dad jumped on it saying "Oh, the worst part is over.  Now's the good part--it'll be the best drug you've ever had".  The fellow looked at me and I hopped into the ha ha parade saying "I guess we need to get him better drugs for home."  Then he was called into the room, handed me his spare New Yorker, flip phone and wallet and went off.

So, sitting here, I'm forcing myself to look over at the hospital part of this facility.  The site where my mom died.  I can't see her room but I know it's there.  My mom died on June 19, 2018.  Even on the drive here I said "We can go visit mom in ICU" and our eyes filled with tears and Dad said "The most traumatic event our family ever went through".  My eyes are filled with tears.  Worry about my Dad's procedure, wondering why the hell I'm living in Elyria instead of LA, missing my mom and wanting her here right now as I'm a poor long-term sub.  As my dad deals with his 5th round of cancer, we're all thinking:  it was supposed to be him first, not Mom.

He was talking last night about a patient he met in a long-term nursing facility.  He was having lunch with two patients, in his volunteer role as Ombudsman.  One of the patients coughed and the other patient said "Don't let them hear you".  Dad laughed at his own joke and then explained to me "They're stuck in there, it's like school.  Eat at this time, sleep at this time.  They know if they get a little bit sick, it's the kiss of death. That's when I want the 45."  I said "Dad, you're going to die here, at home, with us taking care of you."  He laughed and then got a bit teary-eyed.

The door to the procedure area opens again "Donald?" We all look up, trying to guess who Donald is.  He's older, tall, thin and sprightly and as the nurse says "Hi, I'm Mara" he replies with a buoyant "HOWDY" and disappears to the same door my dad went through.

A lady to my right says "I like your purse, where did you get it?"  I reply and worry that I sound really bougie "A little shop in Chicago, where you make custom purses.  I think this was upholstery fabric."  "I really like it".  We are all a shared community:  my Dad, hungry colonoscopy guy and my purse admirer.   

I get up and wipe my tears:  waiting rooms and hospitals make me very anxious.  I take a quiz on facebook for a study with Carnegie Mellon predicting my likelihood of catching Covid. "Have you experienced any anxiety, depression in the last day?"  I'm not sure what to say--last night the congress was counting votes after a bunch of idiots stormed the capital, I am trying to find a tenant for my apartment that's sitting empty in LA, I'm currently reading Obama's new book and I just cried when I looked over at the building where my mother died.  I check "Not at all" because this is just baseline anxiety.  "Have you been anxious if someone in your family will catch Covid" Um, yes.  My dad has Melanoma and we are in a surgical outpatient clinic surely breathing in nothing but Covid air.  Yes, I'm anxious. I'm a human and his technical ICE.

My eyes fill again as I think "Who's my ICE?"  The emergency contact question always makes me cry.  Everyone else puts down a husband or wife and I put down my best friend, or my father or my sister.

"Karen?"

My purse admirer pops up and I say "Good luck Karen" and she says "Thank you!" and my tears dry up.

I'm hungry.  My dad barely eats and has lost some 60 pounds (on purpose).  He's also like a little mouse:  I'll open up a box of granola bars I bought and find only one in there.  He's a late night binger and will eat any sweets in sight.  My mom use to hide the cookies from him and this year I hid them in the oven and the next morning he said to me "Amateur hour.  Your mother was much better than you." And so, the cookies were gone.

I don't like seeing my mom's stocking hanging empty, so I stuffed it with his favorite candies:  Malt Balls from the local Chocolate shop run by a high school friend and AllSorts Licorice.  He balked when he pulled them out "Who got me these?" and then two days later I went to eat a maltball and they were completely gone. "I had a real binge last night" he confessed.

I wore my one Christmas present from my dad to cheer him up: A mask from our church, St Mary's.

This purse is here in Elyria, because I gave it to mom and she used it as her chemo bag, filled with magazines and snacks as the poison poured into her veins.  I went to one treatment--it's pretty boring, Dad read Hamilton and mom chatted with the nurses and patients around her.  We were assured she'd survive.  She did survive the cancer but not the chemo.  

I'm wiping my eyes, embarassed and not sure what to do with my runny nose.  Take the mask off?

I decide on action and get up to grab a tissue and check my dad's privacy identifier number on the board "Pre proced" in a yellow highlighted.  My dad wasn't sure what the exact time of the procedure was, and I can't go back there with him because of Covid.  

The door pops open and another doc comes through, on his phone, ppe on.

I need to distract myself so I get up and go to the board again.  "In room"--now highlighted green.

My sister texts: "How's Dad?" I reply "Still waiting" and think, I've got to get it together, for when the doc comes out.  

One time, my sisters and I were with my mom, while dad had another surgery at the downtown Cleveland Clinic.  They teased my about my $200 dollar jeans (i got them through work, I'd never pay that for jeans" and how they don't fit because I keep tugging at them and none of us have an ass to hold them up.) We giggle about how we have my dad's ass and mom says "I always liked a good ass on a man."  

I cry again and then a nurse comes out and says "Favio" and Favio gets up and the nurse says "My name is Carol, what's your birthdate?" and I go to check the board again for 4752525 and it's still "In Room" but not "In Procedure".

It's been 40 minutes since he went in, he's probably anxious and I send good thoughts his way. I wish my mom was here and we were talking about asses or reading our books or watching the home improvement show. 

So, who's making it about themselves now?

I walk out to the atrium and find the art soothing.  I walk back and look at the patient update board: still "In Room".  The art here is Robert Mangold, silk screen prints.  I plop down within view of the update board and decide I better read instead of thinking about my dead mom's room.  She liked the view of trees.

Another man next to me wears an Ohio State jacket and his head dips and sways as the doc comes out and updates him.  "She's in recovery, she may need to stay overnight."  The man reaches up with his hand, fingers twisted, head swaying on it's stem "So, two weeks?"  The doc replies "A few weeks". They are the star--we all watch and track their movements.  Where is this man's daughter?  How will he care for his wife? Am I being judgey?  When Mom was in the hospital, one of us was there all the time except at night.  In ICU, the nurses said "A lot of these patients don't have any visitors".  We had to make a list of who was allowed in, because too many would keep mom from resting.

 I glance at the board:  "In room".  A notice pops up on my laptop:  "Kim Kardashian waiting...".  This is part of the current news cycle: Kim is going to divorce Kanye.  I love Kanye--his honesty, brashness and how much he loved his mom and Kim.  I hope they can figure it out.  I'm cheering for them.

The swaying man pulls out his paper and I think "Good idea, good distraction".  Why do I always cry in waiting rooms?

I look through his wallet...ids, list of phone numbers, list of surgeries, list of meds, his United credit card (he loves to fly to Cali, and get early and hang in the United Lounge, something my mother never would have done).  

OK, thank god the procedure started.  We've been here almost an hour and a half.  Good thing I took work off today, I'm a mess.

That's what my mom said to my dad when he lost it at the hospital room when she had her procedure to check for cancer in her chest. "You're a mess".  So he pulled it together.

I pull it together and pull out my book, "A promised Land".  I scan the room as a new patient comes in, looks kind of my age, cute, beard, nice manner with the receptionist.  440 area code--local boy.  I can't see a ring and he doesn't seem to have an ICE with him.  I type away and try to look charmingly engaged with my thoughts.

Swaying guy gets a phone call--so maybe he does have some kids who care.

Cute guy wipes hand sanitizer and I don't see a ring.  Why is he in his 40s, and not be married?  I'm not.  The receptionist says something about "If she sees that number calling" and I think ok there's a she.  He sits far away so no go there.

Good distraction.

Dad's number on the board is now "In Phase II", highlighted in blue.  I've been in this waiting room for two hours.  How long does it take to scrape off a patch of skin?  Is he bleeding from his blood thinners?

The door pops open "I'm looking for Kevin".  It's the cutey patootey, who has been laboring at the vending machine for the last 2 minutes, as I've been keeping an eye on his left hand.  "That's me, hey!" he exclaims as a frumpy lady meets him halfway across the room and he hands her the coke he just bought.  "Hey, what are you doing with that soda?" the nurse asks Kevin (I know his name now!).  He hands the soda to frumpy lady and says "It's for her" and they laugh and he goes back into the procedure aread.

The last waiting room I've waited in was for Andy's surgery.  Same thing---I was upset, alone and worried.  And with Andy, he had complications with his bladder and so what should have been a quicky recovery was all day and almost the night.  The main surgery was successful but man, he struggled when his bladder wouldn't "Wake up".  That was a long night, helping him with his cath, and checking on his color. It was two months after my mom had died.  I shouldn't have been there.  But, who else?  Andy's my ICE.

The next day, another friend came over to relieve me so I could do my grief group intake meeting.  Andy had never had surgery and didn't know about the brat diet, so was planning to order chicken curry something. I recommended he not do that "What you put in comes out the other end" I said and pointed to his catheter, right next to his surgery site.  I think that upset the friend--that person hasn't talked to me much since.  Later, I came back and had gotten the brat foods and he chowed on those.

I look at the board again, and dad's number isn't on there anymore.  The door opens and I look up--no doc.  My eyes are dry because I'm mad again about my mom. Not sad, MAD.

He's out!

"How you feel dad?"  "Great!  They were great back there.  Wonderful job.  It was FUN! There's my doctor, nice guy!"

More TV

Current state:  watching Peaky Blinders with Bruce.  We have to squeeze it in before Carson reruns at 10 pm.  He watches Carson every evening and comes into the sunroom where I'm having "Becky time" and tell me every joke.  I've already heard him laughing with his very loud laugh in the living room.  On my kindest days, I thank god holy moley, he's so enthusiastic and outgoing and chatty---I mean that's lucky.

BUT it really GRATES on my nerves.  So, instead, we're watching Peaky Blinders.

Except now.  It's 954 and Carson comes on at 10, and Dad wants to get ahead of Carson.  "Whup!  We gotta switch it".  He fumbles with the remote, switching it from streaming to live tv.

"A lot of work to do"

He gets up, and has his snack of fruit salad, whipped cream and is dying to tell me how much he weighs or doesn't weigh (I never bite).

I yell "You're missing it"

"No I'm not, timing is everything".  He talks the tv off of mute.

"Oh my fire is, well, it's almost time to go to bed anyway." He stokes the fire.  Earlier in the day he had been chopping wood while I was on a work call.

"Let's see what year it is.  Oh, 1982.  That's 40 years ago and hard to believe"

He settles in and tries to get me to laugh along and enjoy it.  I don't play along but am still here typing.

Poor Dad, he almost always wants to chat, have fun and it drives me into my little introvert shell.

Even now, as I type away, and look at the results, he laughs at Johnny's monologue and leans into bring me in on the joke.  

This is FUNNY!

 I was on the treadmill (Covid purchase) around happy hour (5p for Bruce, 8p for me) and he was yucking it up, having caught "Terms of Endearment" halfway through.  Aurora and the Astronaut were out on a date, and the astronaut said something about Aurora having a stick up her ass and Bruce was cracking up.  Bruce has a REALLY loud laugh--we can all hear it from afar.  He loves to laugh, loves to make people laugh and approaches many situations with a joke.  It's a wonderful trait but also really taxing at times if you want, to you know, talk about something serious.

Anyway, "Terms" is one of my favorite movies to watch when I need to cry. I haven't watched it since my mom died (I don't think) because I couldn't bear it.  

My sisters and mom also loved this movie for the same reason--a good make you cry movie.  An enema for your tears.

So, I hop off the treadmill, a little emotional spy, and serve up some tissues to my dad.  He says "I'm not crying" (Tough guy routine) and he wasn't.  But then, Emma gets cancer.

And then we watched the scene where Aurora wants the shot for Emma's pain.

My sister Kitty came over and said "Why the fuck are we watching this?"  I replied "I didn't tell him, I'm just letting it play out."

He proclaims "I didn't know this movie was this good!"

Kitty pretends to not be watching, and irons a shirt and pants for Simon, who has a big day tomorrow.

And then, the scene, with those two 80's looking little boys saying goodbye to their mom. I'm tearing up right now, because they remind me so much of my brothers, hair in their eyes, one sensitive, the other tough, looking on their mom with blue eyes and dark curly hair.  It was the saddest thing I've ever seen when I was little, and now that it's happened, we've lost our mom, I'm MAD that we didn't get that goodbye.  She was whisked off to be intubated and we thought we'd talk to her again.  Sometimes, when I'm calm and rational, I think--the manner of her death doesn't matter...grief is grief.

But this feels like a really shitty breakup---where it came out of the blue, your boyfriend seems to have decided to end it and not filled you in and you are caught by surprise.  How was I such a fool?  And with mom, how did I not know she was going to die?  Did we miss something?  Make a mistake?  What would I have done or said or wanted to hear if we had known?

I think she knew.  That last day, before ICU, she said to me "It doesn't look good".  And then when she was about to intubated, she said to my dad "I think he's taking me up".  But for 10 days, we lingered, dance parties to the Rolling Stones and Barry Manilow, traced the up and down of her blood counts, chest scans, oxygenation, and hoped hoped we could talk to her again.

We never did, not on this mortal plane.

So, back to Terms, those sweet boys, that wonderful mom and I'm crying, Dad's sobbing and Kitty's spilling tears on the ironing board.

Anyway, it ends with Kitty and Dad in a fight ("I'd never leave my children" "I didn't say you would") and as these two fight, I know (Because I've been to therapy) that they are sad, incredibly sad and we all miss mom. So, I get up, exit the fight, fix my dad a plate, pour some sweet white wine and we all settle down to talk.